


Snowed In

by The_Green_Eyed_Girl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas, Established Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Lirry - Freeform, M/M, Nouis, SHUSH, Snow, Snowed In, Ugh, blizzard, i know it's not christmas, i needed the fluff, snowstorm, so much nouis at the beginng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Green_Eyed_Girl/pseuds/The_Green_Eyed_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there's more pointless Nouis than you can take, Harry is head-over-heels for Liam, Liam doesn't give enough hints and that's frustrating, and one of them maybe almost kicks the bucket in a blizzard from hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> Should I stop with the one-shots and try to update my chapter fic? Yes.  
> Should I wait at least and post this closer to Christmas time? Yes.  
> Should I have tried to crop it down so it wasn't so huge a block of text? Yes.
> 
> Am I going to say it screw it and post anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Christmas. The name alone brought with it a cheery, uplifted feeling. The whole season was, perhaps, the most hectic time of the year; and yet it was the holiday to put all other holidays to shame.

That is if you weren’t Harry Styles, who was fairly sure he would be absolutely miserable and alone this particular Christmas.

The deflating realization had come to the boy merely one week before the big day itself, as he enjoyed a few hours of downtime with two of his best mates after a chaotic end-of-term schedule.

“Christmas,” one such friend, Goldsmiths’ own Louis Tomlinson, began, “is literally the _worst_ thing that can happen to a uni student.” Beside him, Harry rolled his eyes.

From across the small living room of the flat, Liam Payne, another of Harry’s mates, was shuffling through note folders to figure out which ones he’d need for the next term. “Don’t be such a scrooge, Louis,” he admonished. “It’s not that bad.”

Louis snorted. “Easy for you to say, maybe, Mr. _I’m-So-Smart-I-Go-To-The-Third-Top-School-In-The-Entire-Fucking-Universe_. I don’t know how it is at LSE, but for us lowly peasants at Goldsmiths, these last few weeks have been the most intensive and soul-crushing days of the entire year.”

“Third _economics_ school,” Liam muttered, trying in vain to force away the red in his cheeks

“It’s funny,” Harry decided to chime in, perhaps in an attempt to hide his smile at seeing Liam look so flustered, “that you complain so much about the season, Lou, and yet Niall was telling me just the other day that you’ve agreed to go with him to a lights festival in Dublin.”

Liam stopped ruffling through his binders to look wide-eyed at Louis. “Did I hear right?” he asked. Louis huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is _Louis Tomlinson_ going to a _Christmas lights_ festival?”

Harry didn’t know what was better, the blush in Louis’ face or the precious look of gleeful mischief that pulled Liam’s mouth into a wide grin. Probably the latter, honestly, but most certainly not because Harry was completely gone for the boy or anything.

“Yes, _now that you ask_ , I am. I’m going _with_ _my boyfriend_ to a festival because he’s cute and naïve and oh-so-innocent, and if being surrounded by Christmas lights and depressed old men dressed as reindeer and fat Russian saints makes him happy, then dammit, it makes me happy, too,” Louis stated with a decisive nod of his head. Liam’s grin faded from a sneer to more of a soft, crinkly-eyed smile, like he was genuinely proud of his grump of a friend.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. It wasn’t anything new that Louis was utterly wrapped around Niall’s finger- the little Irishman had come into the group’s life a year and a half ago, and it was verging on the impossible not to immediately fall for his enthusiasm and childlike, wonder-filled eyes. How he ended up with ever-sarcastic and pessimistic Louis would forever remain one of life’s great mysteries.

“Well, that’s lovely. And really adorable,” Liam decided, finally dropping his books on the coffee table and settling back in his chair. “Wish my plans were nearly as romantic as, ah, what was it? Depressed men playing as reindeer and fat Russian saints?” he mused, drawing his legs into the chair with him.

“If only we could _all_ have my luck, young Liam, the world would be a much better place,” Louis replied sardonically. “But, for curiosity’s sake, what _are_ your plans?”

Harry sat back on the couch and brought up a leg to rest over his knee. He was trying rather desperately not to appear too interested in Liam’s holiday schedule. Personally, he had no big plans- his parents wouldn’t be home, nor his sister Gemma, and if Niall and Louis were going off as well then it was the perfect chance to finally divulge the feelings that had been building in Harry’s heart for Liam over the past two years.

Of course, though, because fate was hilarious and loved giving Harry examples of why he really should stop hoping for the best, Liam’s reply was absolutely not what Harry wanted it to be.

“Just, you know, hanging around in Wolverhampton with some guys I knew when I was in secondary. My parents are taking this year to go off for once, and my sisters aren’t going home either, so I figured I’d catch up with my old mates from school. Andy and them, you know.”

Of course. Andy _Samuels_. Not that he was a bad guy or anything, in reality, he was most likely a perfectly amiable fellow; but, at the moment, Harry would have liked very much to make this Andy _disappear_ for a bit.

“Sounds fun,” Harry forced out through his nauseatingly fake smile. Christmas cheer officially _over_.

“Yeah, I get to sit around while they get drunk and listen to Andy wax poetic about some slut he met in a bar a week ago. Fun times,” Liam grinned sarcastically.

It was probably bad that Harry was happy that it sounded as though Liam would be miserable this holiday season, as well.

“What about you, Styles, eh?” Louis questioned, poking Harry in the shoulder. “Anything big?”

“Just the normal stuff,” Harry shrugged, lying through his teeth and smiling all the while. “Chill out with the family, you know, say hello to Gemma,” lie, “stop in on my dad,” lie, “dinner with mum and Robin.” _lie_. “The usual.”

“Aw, who’s getting all settled and domestic?” Louis sneered.

Harry snorted. His mood had soured considerably since the start of the conversation. “Says the one giving up a Christmas of partying to go to a lights festival with his boyfriend.”

Liam grinned. “He’s got you there, Louis.”

“You’re both _dicks_ ,” Louis muttered.

And so ended Harry’s dream of a perfect Christmas with Liam, where, through some holiday miracle, they fall unconditionally in love and spend the entire season tucked away under the mistletoe and drinking eggnog- if only for the novelty of saying they’d taken part in the tradition. No, this beautiful scenario was stolen away by some bloke in the West Midlands who, apparently, took up Liam’s time by drinking and spewing nonsense about slutty girls.

Honestly, Harry could think of so many better ways to employ Liam’s time.

 

~          ~          ~

 

It was December 23rd, and the day found Harry sitting in Louis’ home as he and Niall prepared to leave for the airport. Harry tried to help pack, but really, if Louis and Niall were going to constantly interrupt the process with bouts of intense snogging and gushing over one another (“This is our first trip together, Louis, can you believe it?” “I know, right, like, _fuck_ , this is serious.”) then Harry wasn’t going to finish it for them.

Finally, the two lovers wandered out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Louis leaned back against the wall between the window and the door and Niall took a seat beside Harry on the window-facing couch. Niall offered him an apologetic smile, like “ _sorry for almost having sex in front of you_ ”. Harry smiled back- it was very hard to be angry with Niall for anything.

“You guys done packing, then?” Harry ventured. He didn’t want them to be, because if they were finished, then they would soon be leaving for the airport. Harry wasn’t fond of the idea of being alone.

Louis gave a nod. “Yeah. Got everything into one case, too. Of course, Niall still has clothes at his mum’s place from when he was like, sixteen- and you know, he hasn’t grown any since then, so...”

Niall blew roughly at Louis. “Says the tiniest person in all the United Kingdom,” he called, standing quickly to compare height with Louis. He was very pleased when he could match his boyfriend’s slouched stance, and Louis was too busy smiling at Niall to stand up straight.

“You’re both ridiculously small, let’s leave it at that,” Harry grinned.

Louis grinned back. “Whatever you say, Gigantor.”

Harry shook his head. “So you’re going to Niall’s parent’s place after the lights festival?”

“Just Mam’s,” Niall muttered, still eyeing the top of Louis’ head. Louis rolled his eyes at him.

“We’re going to his dad’s as well, on Christmas evening, you see. That way we get almost the whole holiday before I’m brutally murdered by an angry Irish father-bear.”

Niall stopped trying to stretch onto his toes and smiled softly at Louis. He leaned into him and laid his head on Louis’ shoulder. “He’ll love you, Lou, they all will... I know I do.”

Harry smiled though the scene put a bitter taste in his mouth. Here was Louis, his best friend since before their first set of teeth fell out, and Niall, who Harry had fast become friends with after Louis introduced him to the group a year and a half ago. Back then, Niall was more of a stress-relief for Louis- they were just out for some fun, nothing serious, and the fling would die down eventually.

Or so everyone thought. Very soon, it became clear that Louis’ newest love interest was to be sticking around for awhile. And now, wonder of all wonders, Louis was going for a full “meet-the-parents” scenario, a decision widely known to only be taken by those genuinely and irrevocably in love.

Harry wanted that. He wanted to feel strong arms wrapped around him, and a gentle voice whispering lovely things in his ear. He wanted to show up at his mother’s house with a boy smiling nervously behind him. He wanted someone to show around his hometown- to take them to the bakery where he had his first job, and the park with the little stream running through where he’d realized that maybe he didn’t want to be with a girl. He wanted what his two best friends stumbled upon so easily; he wanted love. But, of course, fate had a sense of humor, and the only person Harry could imagine having this relationship with didn’t seem to be interested.

Through Harry’s internal battle with himself (Should he sit quietly, or angrily wrench Niall and Louis apart and tell them not to flaunt what had, essentially, just fallen into their laps? Decisions, decisions.) Niall and Louis continued talking about their trip to Ireland. It was mostly Louis fretting over some obscure cousin or aunt whom he was sure would despise him; then Niall laughingly softly and shaking his head while offering up that, no, his family was perfectly pleasant, and Louis had nothing to worry about. Louis was standing straighter now, and his arms were around Niall’s waist. For his part, Niall’s hands rested on Louis’ collar. It was clear they’d forgotten Harry was even in the same room.

“So,” Harry called loudly, causing them to jump. “When’s your flight leave?” he asked, feigning innocent curiosity. He could only take so much of these _damned_ lovesick fools before he snapped.

“Soon. We should leave in about twenty minutes,” Louis answered. Niall kissed him on the cheek before returning to the couch to sit by Harry. It was obvious the boy didn’t realize he was putting his life at risk with this, that Harry was just as likely to throttle him than welcome him.

Luckily, Niall was saved from having his chest kicked in by a knock on the door. Louis furrowed his brow as he went to see this mysterious stranger.

He opened the door to a rather chilled looking Zayn Malik. “You gonna let me in or have me freeze on your front porch?” the boy asked, looking half like he was going to push past Louis no matter what the answer.

Louis laughed and step back to allow Zayn into the warmth of the small house. He closed the door behind him.

Zayn was another of Louis’ acquaintances who just sort of merged with the group over time. No one could exactly pinpoint the moment when it went from “Louis, is your friend Malik coming?” to “hey let’s call Zayn”, but it was some time before Niall was in the picture. Zayn and Louis both attended Goldsmith’s, which was how they knew each other.

The boy in question now stood in front of the archway to the kitchen removing his jacket and gloves.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked. “I thought you’d be halfway to Bradford by now.”

Zayn shook his head. “I’m a decent driver, but I’m not brave enough to try going through this.”

“’This’?” Louis asked. Niall stood from his seat and moved to kneel on the couch beneath the window. He pushed back the curtains enough to see outside.

Louis watched him for a moment before turning back to Zayn, who was busy staring at him as though wondering if he was off his medication.

“Louis, it’s snowing!” Niall called, his voice torn between the anxiety of what this would mean for their trip, and childish glee because “ _pretty white flakes are falling from the sky it’s magic!_ ”.

Louis still seemed confused. He blinked at Zayn, who was still giving him a perfect bitch face, and drew his eyes up to the top of his friend’s head

Zayn’s normally raven black hair was finely dusted in a layer of powdery white, the same layer which also covered the shoulders of his jacket.

“It’s snowing?”

“Yeah, Louis, I’d say that’s a definite possibility,” Zayn replied. He was, perhaps, even grumpier than Louis when it came to the cold season.

Niall pushed open the curtains enough now for all to see the white flurries drift from the sky. Harry leaned forward and crossed his arms over his knees.

“It’s barely dusting?” Louis ventured, still confused. Harry was uncertain, as well; how could Zayn live in a place like England and not be able to drive in a gentle, light snow?

“This is nothing. Where I was, it was already coming down much harder- I think I outran the brunt, but that doesn’t mean it won’t catch up, and soon,” Zayn stated, finally looking away from Louis long enough to pull off his coat and gloves. “There’s a blizzard moving in, a huge-ass storm that’s set to last quite a while. It’s over Ireland right now, but moving this way.”

“A blizzard?” Louis asked though no longer sounding confused. “The airport hasn’t called, surely a storm that big would ground the plane, I mean, especially if it’s over Ireland right-“

He was cut off by the kitchen phone going off. “-now.”

Niall leaped from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. He took the phone out of its cradle and read over the number on the small screen.

“That’s the airport,” he stated with a decisive nod, answering the phone.

“You’ve memorized the airport’s number?” Louis asked incredulously. Niall replied with a look that seemed to say “ _you haven’t?_ ”. Louis rolled his eyes.

“Not all of us fly several times a year,” he muttered.

Niall mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “not all of us have family in driving distance”, but it was too quiet to tell. Louis looked a bit upset, which was fair, considering Niall was right and Louis’ comment was a bit asinine, and he walked gently to stand beside Niall as the younger boy listened to the robotic tones of the automated message.

Harry continued watching the snowflakes fall outside. Was it his imagination, or was the wind picking up? Were the flakes falling thicker now, or was it all in his head? His thoughts drifted to Liam, out on the road by now Harry would guess, attempting to drive through a snowstorm. Harry hoped that the boy was wise enough to look for shelter, or, at least, pull over to the side of the road if things turned sour.

Niall sighed and hung up the phone. “Well, that’s that, then,” he decided. He shrugged at Louis, who still seemed unsure if he was meant to apologize for his comment, and gave a weary sort of smile. “Plane’s grounded. None in or out, the storm’s already picked up a lot over that way.” He strode to the couch beneath the window and sat down, a leg brought beneath him so he could turn easily to see out of the window.

Louis sat beside him, now that it was clear Niall wasn’t angry with him he shifted much closer. He placed his head on top of Niall’s (though both Harry and Zayn knew he was only accomplishing this feat by sitting on top of his legs) and wrapped his arms around the boy.

Niall grinned. “It’s kind of pretty, yeah? The snow. It looks soft.”

“And feels like ice bullets after about ten minutes,” Zayn added, moving to sit beside Harry. “That sucks about your trip, though.”

Louis gave a nod and looked at Niall. Niall glanced up at him and then to Zayn and Harry. “Yeah, but at least if we’re gonna get snowed in, it’s with friends. Better than being trapped in an airport with strangers,” he stated with a bright smile.

His cheer was mildly infectious, and Harry found himself brightening as well. At the very least, he would not be alone this holiday season, and that was something he wasn’t able to say an hour before. He could not ignore, though, the tiniest worm of worry twisting in his stomach.

_Where was Liam in all this?_

 

~          ~          ~

 

“’Twas two nights before Christmas, and, outside the house, not a creature was stirring- not even the neighborhood drunk,” Louis stated in a dreamy tone. Outside, the storm had built up until the all the boys could see past two meters in front of the window was a wall of swirling white and grays.

Zayn snorted. “’Drunk’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘house’, Louis.”

“Let me have this, Zayn, I’m bored as hell,” Louis whined, turning away from the window.

Harry waited for Niall to make some obscure comment about knowing just the thing to help Louis’ boredom, but, instead, the boy stood up and said, “I… I think I’ll try calling Dad again… I’ll be right back.”

Louis watched him walk off to the bedroom while nervously tapping his father’s contact on his phone. Niall had been unable to reach anyone in Ireland yet, and he’d grown progressively more concerned as the storm around the house picked up.

“I’ve never seen Niall look so worried,” Zayn mused. He, Harry, and Louis had no problem getting a hold of their parents and siblings before the storm truly set in.

Louis nodded. “Family’s his soft spot,” he stated, dropping the humor usually injected into his voice. “He’s scared for them.”

They lapsed into silence, with only the howling wind and Niall’s soft pleas in the other room for someone to answer to fill the void.

Harry couldn’t take the silence for long, it felt crushing- like the storm outside was slowly seeping in. “Speaking of worried… did Liam tell either of you when he was leaving this morning?”

“Even if he left at first light, there’s no way he could have beat the storm to Wolverhampton,” Zayn began, “Maybe he saw the weather report and didn’t leave at all.”

Louis nodded but had nothing to add. He was still watching the hall for Niall.

“Wouldn’t he have called us by now? You know, tell us he’s okay since we knew he was planning on driving?” Harry continued, unable to let the conversation die. He needed one of them to say he was being stupid, and not to worry, Liam was tough and smart. He was probably in his flat doing much the same as the other four- sitting bored as hell while he waited for the storm to pass.

“None of us thought to call him, and he knew we were leaving,” Zayn reasoned with a shrug. Harry nodded. Right, they all still thought he’d planned to visit his family.

“That can change,” he decided, pulling out his phone. The charge was low, and he hadn’t thought to bring another with him, but it would hold enough to call Liam.

“Harry, he’s fine, calm down,” Louis grinned. “You’re acting like a mother hen.”

Harry shot him a silencing look. The phone rang several times, but no answer; and, of course, Liam didn’t have the sense to set up voicemail.

“This isn’t mother-henning, this is worrying about a friend, possibly trapped in the worst blizzard since the last _Ice Age_ , who isn’t answering his phone,” Harry muttered, staring at his phone as though that would make Liam call him back faster.

Zayn rolled his eyes as Harry turned around. “Bit extreme, don’t you think? The last Ice Age?”

“No, no, you’re right, of course,” Harry conceded. “Not the since last proper Ice Age, maybe just the little one, the Mini Ice Age. You know, the one sparked by that Kraka-whatever-douchebag volcano in Indonesia, the Ice Age that kicked off the Medieval Times and feudalism? Yeah, maybe since that one.”

“Krakatoa and feudalism? I miss all the best conversations,” Niall called as he returned to the room. He took a seat beside Louis and curled into his side. His eyes were a bit red, as though he’d been crying. Louis tightened his embrace around the boy.

“Did you talk to you parents?” he asked softly. Harry glanced at Zayn and found that he felt the same way Harry did- as though they were intruding on some precious, private part of Louis only ever seen by Niall. The side that was all worry and cuddles and soft words.

Niall grinned, which was an odd thing to see on someone who looked like they’d spent the last eight hours crying their eyes out. “Yeah,” he replied, “I did. Could only get a hold of Dad, and not for long, but long enough to let him know we were okay and for him to say that everyone was alright on that end. Greg’s with him, he was helping him get food ready for tomorrow, and Denise and Theo and the rest are with Mam. Everyone’s okay.”

Louis smiled. “That’s good,” he breathed, nuzzling into Niall’s hair. “That’s really good.”

After seeing that, Harry couldn’t stay in a bad mood. Once more, it was a waiting game- them versus the storm.

Hours past and noon soon turned to dusk. The darkening sky added to the gloom of the storm, which, contrary to lightening up as the day past, seemed to have worsened. Harry checked his phone periodically- the others assumed it was for the time, but it was also to make sure Liam wasn’t trying to call or text. Harry wasn’t sure why he was so freaked, maybe reception where Liam was holed up was shit from the storm, but something in him didn’t feel right.

“We should do a sing-along,” Louis mused, his head back over the top of the couch so he could stare at the ceiling. Niall dozed beside him, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You should’ve told me were going to sing!” Zayn piped with a large grin, which he immediately dropped as he said, “I would’ve brought a knife to slit my throat with.”

“Just a suggestion,” Louis muttered dejectedly. Niall grinned beside him and let out a sigh as he turned once more the window. Harry leaned his head against the arm of the couch he shared with Zayn to watch the swirling snow, as well.

There were shapes in the howling mess of grays, and if he watched them long enough, Harry could almost imagine they were living things. Perhaps they were monsters, shuffling through the blizzard and mocking the absence of people. For a moment, he could hear their voices carry in the wind.

_Humans, all nestled in their warm homes, afraid of a little snow!_

_Come out, come out, my soft pink friends! We only wish to play with you in the snow!_

_Come out, let’s have a tussle in the storm! A little struggle in a deep drift!_

_The snow would make a lovely bed for you, come, come! Come see for yourselves!_

_Come out now, shy little humans, or perhaps we shall have to come in!_

Harry grinned at himself, blaming this surge in imagination on a mixture of boredom and sitting in one position for far too long. He squinted at the shape that had brought on the last taunt, the shape that seemed closer than the rest- as though coming for the house.

But as Harry watched the shape, he realized it _was_ a living thing. It was not some snow monster taunting him out into the storm, but the murky shadow of a person!

Harry wasn’t the only one of the four to recognize the true nature of this shadow, Niall sat up straight at the same time Harry did. As Harry stood and came to lean in front of the window-backed couch, Niall pushed his face closer to the window to get a better look.

The shadow was indeed closer than the others, perhaps near the sidewalk. Harry couldn’t make it’s shape, if it was young or old, male or female- only that it seemed hunched into the wind.

“There’s someone out there,” Niall breathed, now wide awake. He pulled his legs onto the couch and knelt so that he could fully face the window. Louis turned to follow his gaze, and Zayn stood from the other side of the room to watch, as well.

“What idiot goes out in a storm like this?!” Louis cried. Harry pulled away from the couch and fairly flew to the door. He grabbed the nearest coat (it fit well enough, must have been Zayn’s) and reached for the door handle.

“Harry Edward Styles, what the actual _hell_ are you doing?” Louis yelped, jumping from the couch. Harry spun to face him.

“That’s a person out there, are we going to sit and let them freeze to death? Wherever they’re headed, they won’t find it in this storm- they may not even know they’re surrounded by houses right now, I’m going to get them.”

With that, Harry turned and threw open the door.

He’d like to think that the old open-door-in-storm-nearly-get-blown-backwards was Hollywood embellishment, but as the wind found the open doorway, Harry had to grab at the frame just to stay on his feet.

He stepped carefully onto the small square corner porch and discovered the air was too cold and the wind too fast to breathe. He covered his nose and mouth with his arm and struggled against the gale to pull the hood of the track jacket over his head. He tightened the draw strings until he was sure it would stay, and continued forward with his hands covered by the sleeves.

By the time he reached the edge of the porch he was painfully aware of how ill-suited track jackets were for blizzard conditions. He heard a muted hum and turned to see Louis shouting from within the house. Harry was only at the end of the porch, maybe a meter, a meter and a half from Louis- but still the wind stole the older lad’s voice and carried it far away from its intended target. Harry shook his head then turned and searched for the shadow.

The shape was much more difficult to cuss out when actually _in_ the storm, but finally Harry’s eyes clasped on a dark, blotchy figure not far from where he stood. Now, Harry was no fool, and he knew that, in a blizzard, a person could get lost standing not even a meter shy of their own home. To combat this, he took hold of the post on the corner of the concrete porch and stepped down.

Or was it _up_? The cover over the concrete slab kept the snow from blowing against the door, but beyond this, the snow was building a steep incline from the porch. It was firm and icy underfoot, but still Harry knew to be careful- one misstep on a soft patch of snow and he would fall, likely losing his grip on the porch post as well.

The light from the window was all but invisible, and as Harry glanced over his shoulder, he found it hard to focus his eyes on the light from the doorway as well. He’d gone as far as his arm would allow, and the figure was becoming clearer (Was the person coming towards him? Could they see another shadowy shape in the swirling, grey gloom of the storm? Could they know salvation from the bitter death of hypothermia was near at hand?), but he had to stretch farther in order to grab for the shadow’s attention. He couldn’t shout, the figure wouldn’t hear, and he wasn’t keen on releasing the post; so, instead, he took away his arm from his mouth and reached as far as he could toward the shape.

The air was biting cold as it entered his lungs, enough to make his eyes stream more than the wind had them already. The wind! It drove more cold air into his throat than he could manage, and he could almost laugh at the irony of what the headlines would say: victim choked on _air_! Could almost laugh, that is, if he could only get air enough to breathe.

Finally, his cold fingers met with fabric frosted over by the snow. How long had the figure stumbled about in this storm? Had they been lost to it all day, searching in vain for shelter, too blinded by the snow to see that it lay only a few meters to either side?

Harry gave a fierce tug (not that he could tell how _fierce_ it was, only a minute outside the sleeve and his fingers were already chilled to the bone) and the figure stumbled towards him. Harry managed to catch the man, for Harry was sure now it was a man, without releasing his grip on the post, and he drew him in. Together, they made a valiant push toward the porch and, for a brief moment, Harry felt what could only be considered camaraderie with this man. Here was a stranger, and yet he and Harry, without speaking so much as a word, worked together for the survival of both. Was this the true spirit of humanity?

Then again, it could also have been delusions from an onset of hypothermia. In any case, they made it onto the porch and through the door, which was swiftly slammed shut but Louis, Niall, and Zayn. Harry and the stranger stood shivering and panting to the side.

The stranger, like Harry, was not equipped for any length of time in the icy gale. He was dressed, perhaps, for an averagely cold winter day- but a blizzard wasn’t exactly average. He stood straighter and stumbled back against the wall beside the door, then slid down until he was on the floor. He remained there, shivering uncontrollably and with eyes closed tight, and Harry, cold though he was, knelt in front of the man and studied his face.

What hair was visible from the beneath his hood- his brow, his eyelashes, the scruff that covered his jaw and chin and above his lips- was dusted in ice and snow, and his skin was blotched red from the force of the near-arctic wind. He drew in great, shaky breaths, as though his lungs could not believe they were filling with temperate air and wished to drink in as much as they could in case their human host was cast back out into the frigid wind.

These were not the most prominent things Harry noticed about the man- chief among his realizations was that this stranger was no stranger at all.

It was Liam.

The others, upon realizing this man was one of their own, crouched also in front of their shivering friend.

Liam, still shaking as though taken by a fit, opened his eyes and smiled painfully at the boys, in spite of his teeth chattering angrily at him. “Ha-hha-appyy ‘olli-dd-days, la-ds,” he cheered in a weak voice.

They all smiled back at him, though Harry could have cried- it was _Liam_. Liam, the one person in all of the world, and any other besides, Harry wanted to see _least_ in that moment. He should have been at home, bored out of his mind, or even in his car somewhere under a bridge praying for the storm to pass quickly. Not _in_ the storm, not freezing to death, not shivering and in pain on Louis’ floor. His fingers brushed Liam’s icy hand, and his eyes widened. What was he doing, sitting there bemoaning what should have been? This was happening _now_ , and he needed to do something, he had to help Liam.

“What do we need?” Niall asked, obviously one step ahead of the others. He stood and moved swiftly towards the bathroom. Louis pushed back Liam’s hood and felt the chill of his skin. His eyes scanned quickly over the younger boy’s cracked lips and blistered face, and he listened carefully to the dry creak of Liam’s breath as shakily pulled in air through a parched and deathly cold throat. Louis glanced at Liam’s hands for a moment, as well, before finally responding to his boyfriend.

“As many blankets and towels as we can scrounge up,” he ordered. Harry was vaguely aware of Louis and Zayn standing beside him.

“Zayn, can you handle the towels? All the clean towels should be in the utility closet, in a cabinet stuffed beside the washer-dryer unit. There're two really big ones, grab those,” Louis described. Zayn nodded and Louis looked down to Liam. The boy moved to get up, but both Harry and Louis pressed against his shoulders.

“I’m going to hunt down something warm and dry for you to wear, yeah?” Louis decided. He nodded to Harry. “Get him to my bedroom and help him out of those clothes if he needs it.”

Harry dipped his head and turned to Liam. “C’mon,” he coaxed, standing. He hooked his arm around Liam’s upper back and helped him stand.

Many, many times in the past two years, Harry had admired the boy’s strong, muscular physique. Now, however, when he had bear the brunt of lifting this muscular physique, he wasn’t so sure if admiration was the correct term. General frustration seemed to fit better.

“Ha-Harry,” Liam croaked, though his shivering was slowly lessening.

“Hush,” Harry scolded worriedly, “Talk when you’re not dying on us, okay?”

Liam gave a shaky smile.

They made it to Louis’ room and Harry turned to Liam. The boy was trying in vain to pull down the zipper of his jacket, but his hands were shaking too badly. Harry took Liam’s frigid hands in his own and helped him take hold of the finicky bit of metal. Harry’s own hands were shaking, as well, but not as terribly as Liam’s.

Liam grin and laughed softly.

“What?” Harry asked, pulling at the zipper with Liam and vehemently denying the arousal building in his system because _no, no , **no** , he **wasn’t** undressing Liam, he was helping him with his coat, that was **it**_.

“H-how many g-guys do-does it-t take to-to unzip a-a ja-jacket?”

Harry stared at him for a long moment, then, “Liam, really? That joke was worse than one of mine.”

Liam grinned apologetically and gave a tiny _I-tried­_ shrug. Harry shook his head and pulled the jacket away from Liam. This left the boy standing, still very cold, in a thin long-sleeved t-shirt, which was bad for both of them. Bad for Liam because it wasn’t doing much in keeping him warm; bad for Harry because it clung to the boy’s arms and sides, highlighting the bulging muscles of his shoulders and every dip and rise in the length his strong arms. Harry decided it was best not to take in his sides too much, lest the problem developing inside him become a more _externally visible_ issue. He turned away, as though his interest had been taken by something else (as if that were even possible).

Louis was in a moment later with some clothes for Liam- some sweatpants and an old t-shirt, neither of which did the boy justice in Harry’s opinions, of course, he would never tell anyone that. Harry left when Louis asked if Liam’s hands were shaking too badly to take his jeans off by himself, excusing himself to help Niall.

Ten minutes later and Liam was sitting on the window-facing couch, bundled under a thick blanket and his shivering slowly coming under control. Zayn sat on the arm of the same couch, and Louis had taken up his spot on the opposite couch. Niall and Harry walked in from the kitchen bearing five mugs of hot chocolate, which were passed out among the boys. Liam seemed content in just wrapping his cold hands around the heated ceramic.

Harry sat on the couch beside him as Niall curled up beside Louis. Though Harry’s chills, too, were beginning to ease, he still felt a small shiver pass through his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from cold, or from the knowledge that Liam had been alone in a blizzard, stumbling for who knows how long. The others didn’t seem to take notice, or so Harry thought until he felt a shift in the couch and Liam pressing closer. The older boy threw half the blanket over Harry and pushed close against him so that the fleece caught both of their body’s heat. Harry gave him a puzzled look.

“You seemed cold,” he muttered, his voice rough (in a completely sensual, seductive way- as if Harry _needed_ another reason to be attracted to Liam). Harry grinned and hoped the windburn on his face was enough to hide his blush.

“You were the one wandering around in a white-out blizzard, Li, not me,” he replied, hoping Liam wouldn’t find the nickname odd. Liam chuckled, a deep and rich sound that resonated from his chest. Harry swallowed hard and sipped his drink, barely noticing when it burned his tongue.

“So…,” Louis began, clearing his throat, “you going to tell us what happened, or…?”

“Hmm?” Liam hummed, watching Harry a moment longer before turning away. “Oh, right, yeah. I definitely owe you guys an explanation.. Louis nodded.

“Right,” Liam began settling back against the couch (and more into Harry, to the boy’s delight) and arranging his half of the blanket so that it remained over his head, but he could more easily see Niall, Louis, and Zayn, “So, I was on my way to Wolverhampton, yeah? Like on the road. And I knew it going to snow a bit, and it maybe would get kind of bad, but I didn’t _how_ bad or _when_ , so I figured I had time to make it before the storm really picked up, you know? But before I even left the city, the little flurry that’d kicked up was already turning into a proper storm. I thought, ‘Maybe I can make it, maybe it’ll clear up for a bit’, so I kept driving. Only, it didn’t slack up.

“Finally, just outside this neighborhood, you see, I had to pull over. I mean, I couldn’t even see the headlights of the car in front of me anymore. I thought I’d wait out the storm there, just in my truck. And I did, for a few hours, but it kept getting worse and worse, and then it started getting dark.”

“Couldn’t you’ve called someone?” Zayn interrupted, glancing at Harry. Harry wondered how Zayn knew to be discreet. Was he that perceptive? Did the older boy _know_ about Harry’s feelings for Liam? And if _he_ could pick up on them, could Liam?

“No,” Liam shook his head. “My phone was dead.”

Zayn nodded, and he looked almost guiltily at Harry. Then Harry understood: Zayn didn’t know anything.  He felt bad for brushing off Harry’s concerns earlier that day.

 _Serves him right_ , Harry decided, though instantly felt horrible for thinking so. It wasn’t Zayn’s fault Liam was caught in the storm.

“Okay, okay, so continue, yeah, ‘cause it was just getting good,” Louis pleaded. Niall popped him on the shoulder, and Louis had the decency to look sheepish.

Liam smiled. “Okay, right. So, it was getting dark and the snow was really starting to pile up around the car. I’m thinking, ‘I’m going to be buried alive in my own truck if I don’t get out right now’, so I do. I thought I knew the neighborhood well enough to make it here, even if I couldn’t see, and I was right- I was headed in the right direction, but I didn’t realize that it wasn’t a matter of know _how_ to get here, but whether I could get here fast enough before I froze to death. And I mean, I kind of underestimated the storm- I probably would’ve walked right past the front door if Harry hadn’t pulled me in the right direction. I was too scared to the leave the sidewalk, I thought if I left I’d never find it again,” he concluded, turning to Harry with a soft smile. “I haven’t thanked you for that yet, have I? You saved me, Harry. You save my life.”

Harry blushed and fidgeted under the cover. He was happy that Liam seemed to be giving him more attention than usual but he wasn’t sure this was what he wanted. He wanted Liam to love him just because he loved him, not because Harry played a hero for once in his life. He wanted real, proper love, not hero-worship.

A few hours passed, and finally, after a massive yawn to put a thylacine to shame, Niall began the domino effect of people calling it a night and heading off to bed. Louis, of course, followed his boyfriend to their bedroom immediately, and Zayn soon left as well- after much prodding on Liam and Harry’s part that they could sleep in the living room.

Harry would have remained up all night if he could have, sitting beside Liam, using the excuse of being cold to cuddle under the blanket with him. But, alas, the older boy had other ideas and gently shed the blanket from his shoulders and stood to turn off the overhead light and draw closed the curtains. The storm was still raging outside, and the wind still howled viciously against the house.

Harry turned on the end table lamp beside him as Liam sat down beside him once more. It wasn’t the same, though, as he didn’t press against him this time.

Suddenly, Harry felt the cold of the blizzard winds once again, only this time, they blew through his heart.

Liam felt nothing for him besides friendship. When he saw Harry shiver before, he did what every good friend does, he covered him up and made sure he kept warm. It was only good sense that two people bundled closely together under one blanket would generate more heat than two bodies apart and under separate blankets, and Liam was smart enough to know that. It wasn’t attraction of any sort that had him cuddled to Harry earlier, it was a desire for warmth and to simply be a good friend. If Liam had it his way, he’d probably in Wolverhampton by now, partying with his friends.

“Sorry you couldn’t make it home, Liam,” Harry offered blandly. Liam grinned.

“It’s fine, really, I… I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.”

Harry could only stare. Was this a light at the end of the tunnel? “Why? I thought, you know, if you were spending Christmas with them, then you must want to see them,” Harry pushed, fishing a bit more than could be considered socially acceptable. If Liam minded, he didn’t tell Harry.

“They’re… great, I ‘spose, in small doses. But three days straight? I think I’d lose my head. Really, I was thinking of something I could say to get me out of spending the entire time with them, and I guess this storm is as good an excuse as any,” he replied with a humorous grin. “Ironic, innit? I wanted a reason to stay put, I just never realize how bad it would be to actually get what I asked for.”

Harry smiled in spite of his mood. “Guess so.”

Liam nodded and didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was softer. “But then, this blizzard didn’t just keep me here, it kept you away from Cheshire. I bet Anne was freaking out when you told her you couldn’t make it, probably scared her out of her wits to know you were stuck up here in a massive blizzard,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry for Harry.

Harry felt horrible. Here was Liam, sat beside him and sounding so cut up because Harry couldn’t go home when, in fact, Harry had never planned to in the first place. It was true that his mother had been a bit panicky when she found her son and daughter were both trapped in a country about to be under siege by a merciless snowstorm, but it had nothing to do with Harry not coming home for Christmas.

“That’s actually… there’s, um… I need to confess something, Liam…,” Harry muttered, looking away. He couldn’t meet Liam’s eyes.

“What is it, Harry?”

“I, uh, I never actually planned on seeing my mum or dad, or anybody else either, really, this Christmas.”

Liam tilted his head. “If not with them, then who? Niall and Louis were going off on a trip, Zayn was headed home, I was leaving- that just leaves… you. Alone. On _Christmas_ , of all the days,” Liam cried. “ _Harry_ , you should have _told_ me, I would have stayed with you!”

Truly, Harry could have kicked himself.

He looked to Liam as the older boy laughed bitterly and shook his head. “So, basically, we were both set to be completely miserable this holiday, and neither said a word to the other?”

Harry nodded, happy at least that Liam wasn’t angry with his deception. “Seems like it.”

Liam looked at him for a moment, long and hard. Harry’s grin disappeared, and Liam said, “Harry… why, though? Why lie, I mean, what could you have gained from that? All it would have taken was for you to say ‘well, I’ve got no one this time around, gonna be kind of lonely’ and we would have done something to change it. Hell, Louis might’ve even given up the fat, drunk Russian saints for you, and you _know_ how much he wanted to be there for those,” Liam stated, furrowing his brow and letting his grin return for the last bit.

Harry nodded. “I know, that’s the problem,” he replied, earning a look of confusion from Liam. “I didn’t want you, o-or you know, anyone, to make themselves miserable just so I wouldn’t be alone.” He blushed and hoped Liam hadn’t noticed anything strange about Harry’s wording.

“Aw, Harry,” Liam grinned, throwing his arms around the boy. Harry let himself be absorbed into the embrace- even if it was meant in the way Harry wanted, it still felt good to be cared for.

Suddenly, though, Harry was overtaken by a fit of boldness. When Liam pulled away, Harry turned fully to face him and began softly, “I… I didn’t originally plan to be alone, you know. I mean, I had something in mind, it just fell through.”

Liam looked intrigued. “What was it?” he asked, almost hopefully. His tone fueled Harry’s reckless bravado, and he continued.

“Spending Christmas falling in love with you.”

Liam blinked and, with that one tiny reaction, dismantled any courage Harry had managed to build. Liam licked his lips and sat back straighter. He seemed confused, as though he wasn’t sure how to talk to Harry anymore, and the younger boy was painfully aware of how desperate the situation was turning.

“No, no no no that wasn’t… I shouldn’t have said that Liam, no, I- just forget I said it, obviously I shouldn’t have, that was stupid of me to be so… _forward_ , don’t think that… I don’t mean to… _ohhhh_ this is so messed up,” Harry moaned. Another shiver passed down his spine and he turned away from Liam.

Why did he say it? He _knew_ the outcome before the words ever formed in his brain, so why say them? He could _feel_ whatever semblance of a friendship he had with Liam fizzle away into nothing, and it felt like his heart was ripping in two. He felt his eyes water and knew he needed to leave. Maybe he should wander out into the storm? It was pitch black by now, the snow too thick for moonlight, and he could be lost before anyone knew he’d opened the door.

He remembered his imagined monsters from earlier, calling in the wind:

_The snow would make a lovely bed for you, come, come!_

Maybe he should. Maybe he could fall asleep in the snow and forget about Liam, about everything. Maybe then he’d stop messing up.

He hated himself for crying. It was his own damn fault that Liam probably hated him now, that Liam probably didn’t want to sleep in the same room or even sit on the same couch. It was his own fault that he’d ruined any chance of a relationship because he’d read the situation incorrectly and moved too quickly.

But do you know what wasn’t his fault? It wasn’t his doing that the couch shifted. It wasn’t his hand he felt come to rest against his back, and it definitely wasn’t his face he saw when he turned around.

Liam was closer now, watching him like he still wasn’t sure what to say, but damn sure about what he needed Harry to understand.

“Harry,” he began softly, “Don’t… Don’t get the wrong message, please, just… I had to process, to… to _think_ , you know? I wasn’t expecting that… I might’ve, maybe, _hoped_ , a little, that it’d be something like that, but when you actually said it…,” he stammered, finally sighing in frustration and shaking head. “I’m going to try to get through a sentence without stuttering or starting over, okay? Just bare with me, this isn’t exactly the way I’d planned on telling you, and I need to think carefully about what to say.”

Harry turned fully toward him again. He let his hands rest in his lap and kept his head hung, only daring to peak at Liam’s eyes every now and then. Liam's hand moved from his back to his arm as Harry turned.

“Harry, I care about you. As in, more than a friend cares about another friend, and I have for awhile now. I didn’t know how to tell you, I mean, I thought _maybe_ you felt something too, _maybe_ I was reading the signs right, but I didn’t know; and I didn’t want to gamble our friendship on conjecture. You’re always so… funny, and sweet, and you always put others first and do really stupid things like putting your life on the line for another person, even strangers, like today and that’s… that’s only a few of the reasons why I finally figured out that I could see myself happy to be with you. Not as a friend, as something more, happy to be by your side, happy to hold you hand, happy to take you out and grin at the asses who give us looks. Happy to hold you and kiss you and smile at you always… just… happy to be _with_ you, all the time,” Liam confessed, his face betraying his passion. He gave Harry a sheepish look. “Does that… does that make sense?”

Harry lifted his head now to smile at brightly at Liam. His despair had fast become unbridled joy, because, yes, _yes_ , Liam understood! Liam felt the same! Harry could only laugh and nod, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Liam sighed with relief and wrapped Harry very suddenly in a tight embrace.

Harry returned the tight hug and smiled into Liam’s neck.

Suddenly, throughout the room, there was a soft chime. Liam pulled back enough to look over Harry’s head at the clock on the wall.

“Midnight,” Liam smiled. He looked down at Harry. “Merry Christmas Eve, Harry.”

Harry pressed closer to Liam. “Merry Christmas Eve,” he replied, wrapping his arms around Liam’s middle.

Liam grinned and tightened his hold on Harry. “You know,” he began softly, “I think there’s something you're supposed to do at midnight on Christmas Eve.”

“Kissing, Liam, and that’s midnight on _New_ _Year’s_ ,” Harry corrected with a grin and a shake of his head.

“Hm… yeah, no, I’m pretty sure it’s Christmas Eve. But the kissing thing is right, I think.”

Harry’s grin softened into a small smile. “If you want to kiss me, Liam, you don’t need an excuse.”

Liam smiled and cupped the side of Harry’s jaw. He brushed away the tracks left by the few tears that had escaped earlier with his thumb and leaned in slowly. His eyes remained open and locked with Harry’s as he moved closer, shifting carefully on the couch to be nearer to Harry. He brought his other hand up but didn’t seem to know what do with it.

Harry took hold of it and moved closer, as well. Liam stopped just before their lips met, and gave Harry’s eyes one last look before closing his own and pressing his lips against Harry’s.

It was… soft, and innocent, and pure- everything Harry had come to associate with Liam. There was no haste to the older boy’s lips. It was gentle and warm and felt like home.

 _Home…_ The word had new meaning for Harry. Liam was home. Liam’s arms, Liam’s lips- these were home to Harry. He imagined they could be standing in the midst of the blizzard still raging outside, and never feel the first prick of cold.

And it deepened. Now comfortable with the current level of intimacy, Liam pushed farther. He let his once lost hand rest on Harry’s hip and moved the over away from Harry’s face and to his arm.

Harry smiled in spite of himself and pressed his hands lightly against Liam’s chest- enough to respond to Liam’s new advance, but not enough that Liam would interpret it to mean Harry wanted him to pull away. Harry did nothing to steer the interactions, though, as he wanted Liam to control it for now. Harry was confident in where he wanted to go, and how far with which he was comfortable- but he wasn’t sure how secure Liam was in this regard, and he didn’t want to push him beyond his comfort zone.

Liam broke the kiss a moment later and remained with his forehead against Harry’s. Neither spoke, just stared into the other’s eyes, smiling like fools.

The snow might have been howling outside, but Harry felt safer in that house than he’d ever felt in his life.

Liam hummed lightly and let his hand trail to Harry’s shoulder. “Harry?” he whispered.

Harry nodded and pulled his head away.

“You’ll tell me if I go to fast, won’t you?”

Harry was very proud of himself for not releasing the bark of laughter that built in his chest. He was worried about pushing Liam too far, and on the other end, Liam was scared of doing the same to him!

“Yes, Liam,” Harry smiled, “I’ll tell you.” He was about to ask if that meant Liam wanted to continue their kiss but was suddenly very preoccupied with Liam swiftly closing the gap between them again.

This time was different. _Here_ was the passion of which Harry had known Liam to be capable. _Here_ was the spark to ignite the desperate _need_ Harry felt for Liam.

By the time Harry was lucid enough to respond, Liam had him on his back on the couch. For a brief moment, he broke the kiss to make sure Harry was still with him, still okay with what they were doing, then pressed on.

Harry very gladly accepted this new passion from the older boy and gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly. Their lips molded together perfectly, and neither seemed too shy about how deep the kiss should go.

Liam was obviously much more confident about his hands now, and he moved one back to Harry’s jaw. It remained there, a light presence on the side of his face, making the younger boy feel contained and secure.

Liam had always been very good at that.

Harry wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted. Maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe a few days had passed them by in their fevered attempts to become familiar with as much of the other’s body as they could. When finally they pulled away, they remained entangled and lying back on the couch.

They must have fallen asleep like that, curled together on the couch. Liam was pressed against Harry’s back, and Harry was pushed against the back of the couch. Harry wasn’t sure when they ended up in that position, or when they conceded defeat and finally let sleep overcome them.

 

~          ~          ~

 

“Rise and shine, Payne! I just walked in on Niall giving Louis birthday sex and I am _not_ about to go back to sleep.”

The voice was loud and shattered the morning peace. Liam was centimeters away from falling off the couch, but still he pushed himself up to look over the back towards the hall. Harry was barely awake, but he guessed from the voice that it was Zayn who’d so callously broken their rest.

Liam gave Zayn an almost perfect replica of his the older lad’s own signature bitch face. Harry smiled from behind the couch’s back- he hadn’t revealed himself yet.

Zayn rolled his eyes at Liam and looked to the other couch. “Harry already up?” he asked.

Harry took this as his cue. He pushed himself up from beneath Liam and gave Zayn his best sleepy-smile.

“Morning Zayn,” he greeted, his voice thick with sleep.

Zayn wheeled around and stalked back to his room, mumbling something to the effect of “am I the only one who didn’t get laid last night?”

Liam was blushing, but he was also grinning broadly at his friend’s retreating form. “If it helps, nothing’s happened!” he called. Zayn waved his hand as he disappeared into his room, and Liam turned to smiled down at Harry.

“ _Yet_ ,” the younger breathed, grinning up at him. Liam hummed lightly and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips.

“Definitely,” he whispered as he pulled away. Harry shivered.

“Cold?” Liam asked, looking almost worried.

Harry smiled and moved to lie back down. Liam hovered over him.

“Never been warmer,” the younger murmured. Liam smiled, seemingly relieved, and reclaimed his position at the edge of couch cuddling against Harry, though now the younger was turned towards him, their chests pressed flush together. His arms slid protectively around Harry’s waist and nuzzled Harry’s forehead lovingly.

Harry smiled. He was getting the Christmas he wanted, after all. So it wasn’t perfect- so Liam maybe almost died, and for a moment Harry thought he’d accidently ruined any chance of them being together- but it ended just where hoped it would. He was curled up under a warm blanket with Liam, and they _were_ together, and that was all Harry could ask for.

Outside, the storm had finally calmed down. The sky was visible, now, and the harsh blizzard had subsided to a gentle, flurrying snow. This felt appropriate to Harry, as if the weather outside reflected the way his heart was finally beginning to calm under Liam’s influence.

“Hey, Liam?” Harry called gently.

Liam hummed in response.

“Have I ever told you how much I love Christmas?”

**Author's Note:**

> Let's play the how-many-Nouis-moments-can-Mickey-cram-into-a-Lirry-story game.
> 
> So, right, like this was long. The longest thing I've ever typed, probably, and I'm kind of proud of it- at least what I remember of it. So yeah. There we go.


End file.
